


Hallelujuah

by OberonsEarring



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), reverseprompts
Genre: M/M, https://reverseprompts.tumblr.com/post/185624026472/important-challenge-links, reverseprompts - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:13:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22949131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OberonsEarring/pseuds/OberonsEarring
Summary: A song fic... Not my normal but this amazing artist inspired me.  The only thing that I could think of - seeing these fingers - was that song.  So, I wrote a fic.
Relationships: Logan (X-Men)/Scott Summers
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24
Collections: Reverse Prompt Challenge





	Hallelujuah

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to menel for showing me this prompt, and also I do not own the lyrics to this song. Leanord Cohen - the amazing, magnificent artist wrote it and performed it. Though I'm in love with the Jeff Buckley version, it's Cohen that I'll forever remember. He was amazing. He was perfect. His sacrifice will always be remembered.

Melancholy. That was the only way that he could describe it. Soft, disparate, sad. The idle plucks from the strings above him, at the window. He wished that Logan were singing. Humming. Something. Something other than those notes. Something that showed his thoughts, that bled his blood, that revealed what he'd always meant to say.

Scott Summers sat in the window just like the man above him, looking down over that Italian street. Alghero was a tourist destination in the summer, but in winter, it was lonely. With the rain pounding down overhead, all he could think about was his misery, the choices he had had to make, the want inside of him. 

He recognized the song that floated in the wind. He'd once told Logan that it was his favorite song – some years ago, when it was just the two of them stuck in a cave. It was Wolverine's mission to keep him talking after the crash, to keep him awake, and for the first time ever, he asked Scott questions of a personal nature. “What's your favorite song?” “What's your favorite food?” “How long you and Jeannie been going out?” And on and on. Three hours in the cold while Scott bled profusely from his wounds – but Logan kept him talking until help arrived.

_She tied you to a kitchen chair.  
She broke your throne and she cut your hair.  
And from your lips she drew a Hallelujah. _

“Logan?” Scott whisper-yelled from below. The strumming stopped in an instant.

“Keeping you awake, One-eye?”

“I've got bourbon.”

Scott could hear the clunk of guitar, and that depressive, cool medley disappeared from the breeze, giving him a moment of respite from the sadness. The knock was heard a few minutes later, and there stood Wolverine in an old white T-shirt and jeans, guitar in hand. “Been thirsting for some of that,” he said, inviting himself into the small room.

The Captain Commander took two glasses from the wet bar, filled them nearly to the brim with the good stuff, and handed a glass to his cohort in this caper. The burn, in and of itself, was comforting, especially to Scott. “Surprised at you, Boy Scout,” Logan teased, emptying the glass and asking for more. “Didn't realize you had taste.”

Scott took the burn with a small smile and returned to the window. He liked this perch – it was safe here. He could see all the angles, the people, the lights, the traffic. There was nothing here that could surprise him. “Didn't know you could play,” he finally said, taking another sip of liquor. 

Logan grabbed the bottle and hunkered down on the bed with it, crossing the room twice to top off Scott's before leaning the guitar across his lap. The silence had stretched on forever. “When you're as old as I am, you learn a lot of things.”

_Baby, I've been here before  
I know this room, I've walked this floor  
I used to live alone before I knew ya _

“You don't have to play that,” Scott interrupted the solemn plucks of strings.

“It's your favorite song.”

He finally finished off his glass, set it on the windowsill. The older mutant was immediately on his feet with the bottle in hand. “You trying to get me drunk?” Scott scoffed, absent of smile.

Logan shook his head and returned to the guitar. “Thought for once we could be civilized.” He took a swig from the bottle this time, swallowing it down like it was water. Again, he picked up the guitar.

“You really don't have to play that song, Logan.”

“It's your favorite song,” the shorter man repeated himself with a growl to his voice. 

Ignored, Scott stared up at the sky. The lyrics playing over and over in his head, a winter storm of sadness that froze him from the inside out. The bourbon did little to warm him up.

_I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
And love is not a victory march  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah _

“You'll be swapping spit with me if you keep drinking that fast.” Logan looked up from the guitar, his fingers still playing along. “You want me to go back to my room?” 

A long silence. “No.”

The cat and mouse. To Logan, Scott thought sometimes, it was all a game. Baiting him to see how far he could take things. Lording his decision to be with Jean over his head like a club, threatening to bash it into his skull at any moment. In some ways, he wished the older mutant would. Yell at him. Punch him. Stab him. Something. It would be easier than this – this casual company that they keep. 

Logan filled Scott's glass once again. He watched the man carefully, saw the slight pink at the edge of his ruby red glasses. “You're not an easy man to love. You know that?”

Scott drank half the glass before slamming it back down, curling his arms around his knees. “I would know more than anyone,” he said, referring to his penchant for self-derision. Logan started to play again. “You don't have to play that song!”

Logan smiles. “It's your favorite song.”

_Maybe there's a god above  
But all I've ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew ya _

“You're doing this on purpose.”

“Damn right I am,” the shorter mutant raged, face red and teeth glinting in the dim light of the room.

Scott shrank back against the window frame, his face of mix of confusion and fear. Slowly, he lowered his hand from his visor. “You hate me that much?”

“I love you that much.” Logan paused, stared at him with his weathered blue eyes. “Haven't you figured that out by now?”

“Jean--”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” he said with a wave of his hand. “It's always about Jean.”

_And it's not a cry that you hear at night  
It's not somebody who's seen the light  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah _

Logan laid the guitar down on the bed, chugged the bottle once again. He didn't feel it like Scott did – the alcohol. He needed to drink hard and fast before he could get himself drunk, and then it never lasted long enough. His captain needed just a few drinks, and his head span with the stuff. But, there was a reason for the continued drinks. The Boy Scout actually talked when he was drunk – something Logan had learned some time ago. “Does she make you happy?”

Scott shrugged. Inebriated, he nearly fell out of the window, but Logan caught him, held onto that long, muscular body. He smelled like Aspen. Cool, clean, pine and fresh water. It was a scent that was forever poisoned for him; one that made him ache. In his arms, he could feel the slight shaking of that frame, the soft inhale as Cyclops, once again, tried to avoid himself. “Does she make you happy?” the older mutant repeated, knowing the answer full well, but needing to hear it from Scott.

Instead of a vocalized answer, Logan got a shake of head against his chest and the man curling further up inside of himself to stop the sudden tempest of grief. For Logan, this was intentional – to finally see it, to understand how much Scott's decision to remain with Jean had cost him. Likewise, it was hard to see the man fall so low – that he would actually shed tears. It meant that the younger mutant loved him far more than he'd ever imagined. 

_Hallelujah_  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah 

**Author's Note:**

> Once again - I do not own the italicized lyrics, nor do I own Logan and Scott. These are all beyond me, and regardless of my wishes they are owned by separate companies. Realize that I mean no harm. And kids, if you feel like writing, I applaud you.


End file.
